


Eau-de-Vie

by Gomorrah



Series: Eau-de-Vie [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Female-Centric, Romance, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gomorrah/pseuds/Gomorrah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carella was certain she'd win her bet - but she wasn't counting on a little magical interference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Owlbears and Aganazzar

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First time trying this out, and I've just realized this is pretty damn brief, but I'm posting it anyway. Let me know if you guys like this at all/if it reads well or badly.

     Carella held her breath as she nocked an arrow to her bowstring. She’d been hunting the bear for a solid 6 hours – Belven back at the tavern had seen it and bet that she couldn’t bring it back before he did – he was wrong. Well, not wrong yet. About 4 hours in most would’ve given up – despite how huge it was, the thing was fast, and jumpy to boot, making it a hunter’s nightmare. Noticing for the first time the tufts of purplish feathery down behind its ears, Carella figured it must have some owlbear in it. She’d taken down a few owlbears before – despite their ferocity and size (probably 50 pounds heavier than this one, at least), they were easy prey for her, so this one ought to be no different. She lined up her shot – a solid hit to eye should at least slow it down. The bow whined, she let out her breath, and a ringing filled her ears. The bear’s head lifted up from sniffing intently at the ground, and it began tearing away through the underbrush.  


     “Damn...” Carella shifted her aim to follow the bear and shot haphazardly – the arrow lodged in its foot, only spurring it on in its retreat. She stood up on the branch, cracking her neck. It was going to take another solid hour of tracking just to find it again. Glancing around, she saw what had scared it off – a plume of gray smoke was rising in the distance. A fire? It had rained that morning – dew still hung on the branches. It was close, half a mile away at most. It had to have happened all of a sudden, otherwise she would’ve noticed it. Her eyes narrowed. If she didn’t sense it, but the bear had, it was probably magic. Animals sensed the channels through which magic flowed better than humans could – at least, according to Belven, who pretended to be an expert on everything. Hopping off of the branch, her feet smudging the bear’s tracks as she landed in the soft peat, she set off at a jog towards it.  


     They didn’t get many mages in these parts – the town was on the outskirts of society, a small hunting village – not somewhere spellcasters often had occasion to go, though they got a few druids passing through here and there. As she got closer, a whiff of sulfur made its way into her nose, and she grimaced, ducking under a low-hanging bough. Did all magic have to smell like rotten eggs? There was a shout, and the ground shook under her feet. The birds took off from the trees in one panicking, chirping mass. She took a moment to steady herself – an earthquake? Not a natural one, at least. She spurred herself onward, the air becoming smoky. There was a clearing a hundred yards away – she climbed onto a tree, hopping to another one and swinging herself higher to get a better view. She let out a low whistle.  


     The place was devastated – grass was burning in patches, a large bonfire crackled in the center of it all, the ground was torn up, and smoke hung heavy over the place, curling up from the ground in wisps. Strange items were scattered about the clearing – what looked like a cricket in a jar, a small silver bell rolling away slowly, a bunch of other garbage. The corpses of about 5 bullywugs were strewn about on the right side of the clearing. Bullywugs were squat, fat, froggish creatures that fancied themselves conquerors. They didn’t aim to kill, but to kidnap travelers and squeeze false praise for their swampy ‘civilization’ out of them. Usually, with a bit of flattery and a quick departure, they would let you go without trouble. 

     “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said, sticking her sword back into her belt. “You do realize that they probably would’ve let you go if you just complimented them on their intelligence, right?” The mage stared up at her wordlessly for a moment, eyes wide, then scrambled away from her, grabbing the quarterstaff off of the dead bullywug and pointing it at her shakily as he got to his feet.  


     “Who the hell are you supposed to be?” He said, straightening his hat. Carella blinked.  


     “Huh?”  


     “You look like you just rolled out of bed!” He accused. She looked down at herself. She was wearing a white dress, smudged with dirt, that she had cut short and sliced a line in the side of so that she could actually move in it.  


     “Look, I’m a hunter. If you expect me to put on my best armor when I have to get up at the crack of dawn every day to do my job, you’ve got another thought coming.” She put a hand on her hip. “Relax, would you? I just saved you from getting beaten to a pulp by a frog.” The student shakily lowered his staff. “So you need that thing to do magic, huh? So it’s like, a wand?” Carella asked, digging around in her pocket for the scale. He didn’t respond, knuckles white around the wood. She took out the scale she had picked up, holding it out to him. He took in breath sharply. “Did you drop this? This crap is all over the place.” The wizard growled lowly at her, and suddenly thick white mist rose up around him, dispersing just as quick as it came, and he was gone. Carella blinked. Did he just leave? A stiff breeze blew from behind her, and she turned around with just barely enough time to drop the scale and grab the quarterstaff swinging down at her head with both hands, the same mist rising up in wisps around the student, his mouth set in determined line. She took a moment to look him in the eyes – he didn’t show any sign of stopping. She yanked hard on the staff, smoothly kick-flipping backwards to show off as he stumbled after her, weapon ripped from his hands. She planted his staff in the ground, leaning on it. “Okay, so now that you don’t have a wand, you wanna start talking before I pick up where the bullywug left off?” The wizard sneered at her.  


     “You think I need a quarterstaff to invoke arcanum?” He scoffed at her. “How vapid, though I’m not sure what I expected in terms of intellectual might from you backwater hicks, living way out here.”  


     “Says the guy who just got his ass handed to him by a _bullywug_.” She rolled her eyes.  


     “They scattered my material components!” He blustered. “A strong connection to the Weave can’t be maintained by-”  


     “Oh, bite me.” Carella snapped at him, taking a step towards him. He dove to his knees, hands fumbling in the dirt, picking up the red scale she had dropped. Mumbling eerily, he gestured sharply around the scale, and then shot his hand towards her. Instinctively, she ducked as a line of fire flew from his palm, nearly striking her clear in the chest. The beam crashed into the underbrush behind her, setting a bush briefly aflame until the still-wet leaves quenched it with a hissing of steam. As she regained her bearing, he shook the scale at her.  


     “You’ll back off if you know what’s good for you, girl,” he snapped.  


     “By the 9 hells…” Carella muttered, holding up her hands, dropping his staff. “Look, I’m leaving, alright? Just don’t burn the whole forest down.” She backed to the edge of the clearing, the mage advancing threateningly towards her.  


     “Just one thing.” He looked very satisfied with himself. She hated that.  


     “What’s up, buttercup?” She smiled her scariest smile at him, sashaying her hips sarcastically. He recoiled, glancing at his feet.  


     “Um, uh…” He fiddled with the scale in his hands for a few moments before spitting out: “What’s your name?”  


     “I, uh, um, uh...” She mocked, rolling her eyes. “It’s Carella, and I hope I don’t ever have to see you again.” She turned around, stepping into the underbrush. Had to say, if all wizards were like him, weak and egotistical, she was glad to not have to deal with more of them. She walked quickly away from the clearing, not wanting any part of what that student was up to.  


     The rest of her day was unsuccessful – after returning to where she began, she found the trail was stone cold, and was unable to find it for the rest of the day.  


     When she walked into the tavern that night to find Belven mounting the bear’s head on the wall and grinning at her mockingly, she knew she was in for it.


	2. The Hunt Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carella just wanted to life some brandy, but accidentally runs into a God's own Hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! I dunno what I'm doing, man.

     Carella held her breath as she nocked an arrow into her bowstring, not even pausing before she took a shot up and out into the black of the night. At the clanking of the arrow on the ground, the guard turned, giving her the opportunity she needed to slink quickly through the gateway and into the village. 

      Crook’s Lake, outside of being the site of reportedly the best brandy in the empire, was just about the wealthiest town for miles around, wealthy enough to actually have guards that cared who entered and left the city. A damn long walk to get there, Carella had found out – it was completely dark now, and she’d left for town when the sun was still in the sky. The streets weren’t well-lit, and she was grateful for that – the mage from earlier, despite being nasty about it, had had a point. A girl her age out this late alone, dressed like she was, would raise some eyebrows here, unlike back home. 

      Belven had decided that her punishment would be to haul her ass over here and get them some of the famous brandy – which he had later revealed to her was outrageously expensive. No choice but to steal it, or somehow catch and sell 3 weeks’ worth of hunting in one night. She doubted it would be much trouble – she’d heard stories of others grabbing a bottle and sneaking out, easy. She paused in front of the tavern, advertising “Crook’s Brandy”. No hiding her state of dress in there – she’d have to pull it off by sheer confidence. She grabbed some twine out of her pocket and quickly put her hair up in pigtails – maybe they’d figure she was a barmaid coming in for work if she played her cards right. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the door open, the tavern surprisingly quiet. About 15 men were crowded into the surprisingly tiny space, a curtain separating the kitchen behind the bar from the sitting area. She waved to a waitress as she strode behind the bar who, face muddled in confusion, waved hesitantly back. Too simple. Eyes running over the selection, she noted a large bottle, topped with a silver stopper, full of reddish-brownish liquid. Jackpot. As she took it down, a balding man stepped through the curtain, and cocked an eyebrow at her. 

      “What’re you doing?” 

      “Um.” she said, meeting the man’s eyes solidly. He stepped towards her and, thinking fast, Carella grabbed the first bottle of wine she saw and hurled it at the men at the table. The bartender lunged at her as the patrons broke out in yelling, but she was already over the counter and halfway out the door, clutching the brandy to her chest. As she shouldered the door open, stumbling into the middle of the street, she took off for the gate. If she could just get past it before the bartender called out, she’d be fine, no way the guards would be able to keep up with her. When she was about 25 feet away from the gate, the tavern door burst open again. 

      “Stop that girl! Guards! Guards!” Carella grinned. Too late. She whizzed past the gate, the sentinels calling out and starting to give chase. She’d lose them quicker than you could bat an eye. What she wasn’t expecting was another group directly ahead of her, carrying torches. Damn – they must’ve just come back from a patrol or something. As they drew spears and fanned out to meet her, she turned a sharp left and headed off the road, into the underbrush. The calls of the men followed after her, twigs crunching under their boots. She ran along the wall of the city, keeping in the shadows. Noticing a particularly large bush, she took her chance, diving behind it and slowing her breathing. 30 seconds later, the guards trooped past, whacking aside the branches in their path. Giving them another minute, she stood and stretched, bottle of brandy clenched triumphantly in one hand. 

      “Confident, aren’t we?” said a voice behind her. She whipped around, but all she could see in the dark was the figure of someone hopping off the wall and into the underbrush not 3 feet from her. She took off, not waiting to find out what he intended to do with her. As she dashed through the forest, shouts broke out as the guards heard her hurried escape. She cursed under her breath. Damn it, she needed to lose them, and fast. Spotting a good climbing tree, she hoisted herself three branches high, the leaves covering her quite nicely. She waited, and a group of four guards trooped past, one with a torch and the others with spears, stopping a little shy of her tree. 

      “You think we’ve lost her?” 

      “Probably.” One of them muttered, bringing out another torch. “Lemme get a light off yours, yeah?” 

      “Here.” The other guard kindly held out his flame for the new torch, but the one trying to light his swore. 

      “Damn, it’s not catching. Never mind, let’s fan out and look for her. You three go ahead on ahead, I’m going back to the wall and try to see if she’s backtracking.” He pointed at each man in turn. They all split off, the lit torch bobbing up further ahead. Giving them 30 seconds, Carella swung back down, happily setting off back towards her town at a quick trot. Before she could get too far, however, someone grabbed her hand hard, chuckling. 

      “Oi, back here!” the guard called, then snarled at her as she attempted to struggle out of his grip. In the dark, she couldn’t see what was in his other hand, but whatever it was hurt when he brought it down against her arm, shoulders and sides a few times. The one with the torch burst back through the underbrush, along with the other two, illuminating her captor – unlit torch held at his side. Damn it, he must’ve stopped and tried to light it, and she just walked right into him. Growling, she swung the bottle of brandy at his head before he dropped his torch to stop her, grabbing her arms and bringing them together. 

      “Tie her up, would you? And take the sword off her belt, too.” Carella snarled and tried to wriggle free, but another came up from behind her, wrapping a length of rope around her arms. “You really thought you were gonna escape with that stuff?” He sighed, watching happily as she struggled, the other guard finally tying a solid knot and stepping away. She just snarled at them. This was bad, they’d probably throw her in jail. 

      “What’d you reckon we should do?” the one tying her hands asked. 

      “Drag her back to town, and let the bartender go from there, I guess. She can even carry the booze for us.” He winked at her. “Just don’t drop it, sweetcheeks, or you’ll be in even more trouble.” The rest of the men chuckled. “This is not gonna be pretty for you, darling.” 

      “I know,” Carella snapped, considering how it would be best to make a run. With her hands tied, she wasn’t going to be as fast as she could be, and wouldn’t be climbing, either. Especially if she decided to try to keep the brandy, too. 

      “Here, lemme light this damn torch, and we’ll drag her back.” As the two guards approached each other, a distant howl pierced the night, loud enough to send a shiver down Carella’s spine. The guards held out their weapons, one waving his torch to illuminate their surroundings. Nothing to be seen. Wolves weren’t too common in this part of the forest; they were usually further out. It could be something else really nasty, maybe a doppelganger or a parrotesque. Eventually, the guards congregated back together and started trying to light the torch again. After a solid minute of trying, they still were having trouble. 

      “What the hell?” They tried once again, and this time the torch burst into brilliant light. 

      “There we go.” One muttered, holding the torch far away from him as it hissed and spat embers. “9 hells, it’s hot.” The flame steadily grew to an unnatural size, color brightening, casting a circle of light over the soldiers and their captive. The guards stared, transfixed and confused. Carella backed up quietly, considering if it would be worthwhile to make a run for it while these idiots tried to figure out their supplies. Without warning, both torches exploded in a burst of light and heat, pinwheels of color flaring across her eyes and blinding her as the guards called out in shock. As soon as it started, it was done, smoke covering the area, Carella trying to blink away the flashes across her vision. Suddenly, as if it was right on top of them, what sounded like a whole pack of wolves began howling in a horrific din, tones merging and diverging in an inhuman music. Carella dropped to her haunches, and swung the brandy blindly into the haze. The smoke swirled as the bottle sliced through thin air. She could barely hear the guards yelling to each other in confusion over the pack. A trumpet blared from in front of her, and she jumped back, panting. The clarion call ended, and a voice declared above the noise: 

      “Let my words mark the beginning of this, the commencement of Woden’s Wild Hunt!” The guards screamed in terror, and Carella took off in the other direction as fast as her legs could carry her. 

      Woden was an evil God, famous for fathering the first werewolves. The legend said that he was defeated by a hero of an opposing God, but that once every century he was allowed back with his horde of man-wolf hybrids to kill, rape and pillage as much as he desired for one night before being sealed within the 9 hells again. Carella had heard people claim that they’d seen the Wild Hunt and sometimes even Woden himself, but she’d dismissed them. 

Well, until now. 

      About 50 yards away from where she was caught the smoke finally cleared entirely, the howling chorus slowly fading into the background, but Carella didn’t stop. 

      “YOU!” A roar from the underbrush caused her to slow long enough for the guard in hiding to grab her arm and throw her to the ground. “What did you do?” The man had a crazed look in his eyes, snarling at her. “You brought the Hunt upon us, Witch!” He stood over her, legs looking like they were ready to crumble. “I’ve heard of you! Demons, hags that wander the woods, bringing death to all God-fearing men!” He stopped, listening to the wolves in the background. “I’ll offer you to them…” He raised his spear in one hand, panting. “They’ll spare me if I –” Carella tried to stand, swinging the bottle at the man, but he roared and struck her with the spear, the head burying itself deep into her stomach, hitting bone with a gut-wrenching squelch “-give them the witch who summoned them as a sacrifice.” He raised his weapon again as his victim clutched her side, screaming out, kicking her feet to get away from him. Abruptly, the din in the distance stopped. The guard paused. It felt as though you could hear a pin drop in the silence, after the noise from the Hunt. He slowly looked around, but Carella saw it first. 

      “Behind you!” She called out, wincing. The guard whipped around. A large wolf, with a mane and slitted eyes that almost made it look like a lion, ears unnaturally elongated and coat mottled with gray and brown, padded gently towards them, maw open in a strange, unsettling grin. 

      “Back!” The guard called, spinning around and thrusting his spear. Between one blink and the next, the dog was gone. The guard found his footing again, head whipping in both directions, trying to find it. As quickly as it disappeared, it appeared again, behind the guard’s back, snarling and tackling the man. He roared in pain as the wolf began to tear into his back with its claws, trying in vain to shake off the beast. Carella’s vision wavered, blood draining from her fast. She tried to drag herself further from the battle, but the ground tipped away from her sickeningly every time she tried to find purchase on it. She gripped something in her tied hands hard – she still had the bottle of brandy? From behind her, a man’s voice barked an order, to which the wolf’s grin widened and it yipped happily. Carella felt someone grab her tied hands and haul her to her feet, her head pounding. She followed obediently as the man lead her at a steady jog through the forest, his cassock flapping behind him. He stopped at a small clearing and let go of her hand, turning around, studying the sky carefully. She noticed with some displeasure that it was the wizard who’d distracted her in the afternoon. 

      “H-hey…” She said weakly, forgetting what she was going to say as another wave of pain washed over her. The student smirked, looking down at her and raising his eyebrows like he’d just noticed her. 

      “Wow, he screwed you up pretty bad. Judging by the swelling, it probably pierced your intestines and gave your spine a good nudge.” He bit his lip, scanning her body, but his eyes lit up as he did. “Gimme that.” He snatched the bottle from her, and Carella felt a breathy whine escape from her lips in protest. Producing a dagger from in his robes, he quickly cut away the seal and popped the cork out. “Here’s looking at you.” He toasted her mockingly, carefully taking a sip and looking at the bottle appraisingly. Finally, he nodded, and swallowed, grinning. “This is your lucky day, girl.” From his belt, he grabbed a length of rope and tossed one end into the air, mumbling something under his breath and gesturing with the hand holding the dagger. The rope didn’t seem to come back down. Carella craned her neck absently, legs unsteady, staring at the rope hanging in the air. “Try to stay still.” Carella blinked as the student brought the knife down towards her, sawing through her bonds and, before she could even think to open her mouth, quickly cutting away the front of her dress. She blinked as her bare skin was exposed to the cold air. The student nodded happily as he surveyed his work, his eyes darkening in a look she knew too well. 

      “At least buy me a drink before you try to bed me.” She tried to fold her arms, but her body seared with pain when she lifted a hand and she settled for grimacing to herself instead. The mage chuckled. 

      “Feisty, aren’t you? Maybe when you’re not covered in blood. Just hold still, you’ll probably lose consciousness soon.” Carella looked up at him blankly as he produced yet another strange item, a golden wire bent into the shape of a candle snuffer. He murmured over it and she felt her body slowly becoming lighter. She considered fighting it, but gave in and laid back. Her only thought before she passed out was musing, wondering if the wizard had enjoyed the view.


End file.
